The thought wiped her smile away. She quickly pasted it back on, lit the taper, and returned Asher’s lighter. She’d been trying so hard to keep her feelings to a minimum, to not make any major pronouncements. Not until she was sure she could handle what came with it. Which was what, she didn’t even know.
She’d never been in love before. She’d never allowed herself to be in love before.
She didn’t know what to do with the loving Asher thing. Especially now, in the midst of happily-ever-after dripping from every available chair, table, and person at the wedding.
Asher wasn’t done with her. He offered an elbow. “Walk you to your seat.”
She looped her arm in his and he sat her in the second row, then returned to his position. The music swelled and the women came to take their spots across from the men. Lacey stood at the matron of honor position across from Alessandre, who looked as dashingly handsome as the other men; Faith was at position two across from Connor; Kinsley had been paired with Asher; and Charlie and Evan stood in the final position.
And then the music shifted.
Gloria wasn’t much of a weeper, but seeing Sofie glide down the aisle, the promise of her and Donovan’s future rounding the front of her dress, almost did her in. She loved that Sofie didn’t try to hide it but instead proudly displayed what was a son or daughter growing in her belly.
But it was Donny who caused Gloria to sniffle, and prompted the woman next to her to push a tissue into Gloria’s palm. Donovan had had a hard life, and a harder adulthood. The man was as stoic as they came. But when Sofie came to him in white, her smile bright, it was the groom who looked like he needed a tissue. His eyes glazed with unshed tears; his jaw was clamped tight. And his eyes never once left his bride.
Gloria dabbed her eyes and managed to hold herself together for the remainder of the wedding. After they were introduced as husband and wife, Evan put his fingers to his lips and whistled. Shouts and claps infused the air. Then everyone got down to the business of partying.
The reception was informal—no required wedding party or parental dances. In place of a cake were cupcakes and Devil Dogs from Sugar Hi. A jazz band played from the huge brick patio running the length of the rear of the mansion, and dinner consisted of buffet-style small bites constantly replenished by bustling waitstaff dressed in black.
Gloria lifted a champagne flute off a passing tray and turned to see Charlie, her shoulder-length honey-blond hair done in waves, pink dress hugging all the right places, and shoes off. She was breathing heavy from dancing and smiling so big, Gloria couldn’t help but return it.
“Smooth moves, Ace,” Glo teased, using Evan’s nickname for her.
“Thanks, Sarge.” Charlie winked. “You were looking pretty cozy nestled against Asher Knight a few songs ago.”
Glo sipped her champagne. Asher had asked her to dance to a fast song, kept her spinning until the music slowed, then refused to let her escape. He held her close, his hand in hers and her arm against his chest, his other arm low on her back while she held his neck. They talked, she laughed, and he muttered sexy, delicious things he wanted to do to her later into her ear.
There’d been zero opportunity to sneak into the house with the vigilant waitstaff swarming like an army of ants all over the mansion, so they’d settled for a lot of verbal foreplay and the promise of more later.
“It seems you two have worked things out,” Charlie said, still smiling.
“We don’t hate each other,” Gloria quipped.
“Yeah, but did you ever?”
“No,” Gloria admitted. Then mumbled, sort of to herself, “I never hated him.” I only ever loved him. Even before I knew I was avoiding admitting it.
“Champagne! I’m so jealous!” Faith shook her fists in front of her.
Charlie pointed at Faith’s stomach. “I’m jealous of you, mommy-to-be.”
Faith pursed her lips. “No luck yet?”
“We’re not trying again yet. Practicing”—Charlie waggled her eyebrows—“but not trying.”
“You look like you’re going to be getting some practice in tonight, too, Glo,” Faith teased.
“Oh, well, you know.” If Gloria’s dress had a collar, she would have tugged it to allow room to swallow around her suddenly swollen throat. Her nerves were jittering and for some reason, her third (or fourth?) glass of champagne was not helping calm them. “I need whiskey,” she said, abandoning the flute on a tray as it passed by.
“You’ll be fine,” Faith said, stepping closer.
“It’s just like riding a bike.” Charlie huddled in, too, unintentionally making Gloria feel caged in. “And in a few months, or maybe a year”—she tipped her chin at Sofie, who was holding on to Donovan while a guest admired her wedding ring—“that’ll be you and Asher.”
Time stopped.
Gloria’s eyes went to Asher in his tux.
“Mmm-hmm,” Faith agreed. “First comes love, then comes marriage, then…well, you know how it goes.”
Love. Marriage.
Baby.
God.
A baby.
Gloria made a great lay, and as she was learning, a decent girlfriend, but a wife? Or a…
“Mom!” Lyon shouted, and Gloria nearly leapt out of her skin.
“Yes, my son,” Charlie answered formally.
“Can I stay with Derek tonight?”